Psychotic Photographer | J.H

°circa 10

"It's a great honor for me to work with a noble. I'll do my best to help you ma'am." Jungkook beamed as we walk side by side through a passageway between buildings.

"Please, don't call me 'ma'am' since I'm a male for this day." I reminded sharply yet in kind tone of voice. Jungkook thinned his lips and nodded his head in response. We stopped in front of a three story office building as the sun's light bouncing on the glass windows above. A series of few steps lead him up to the door while I stayed behind. His expression suddenly looked troubled as he twisted the door knob countless times.

"What's wrong?" I queried in confusion.

"The door is locked," He turned his head to me with a dejected look and continued, "My co-worker has the keys and he probably thought I won't come back soon so he left to visit his past-time." Jungkook clicked his tongue in annoyance and went down the steps.

"Where are we going?" I asked and sped up my pace to follow beside him.

A sly grin etched on his mouth and replied, "Underground."

Bloody sweats, loud cheers and whistles of men, and the barbarous knuckling each other's face welcomed me that compromise the underground of entertainment. It is a reclusive place where most of the males gathered around to watch a fight between two brawny men. Honestly, I find them repulsive and inhuman for this gig of men.

"There he is!" Jungkook pointed to a young man with brunette hair and included around the circle of men who enjoys the brawl. He marched toward his colleague while I trailed behind him.

"Go punch his face!" I heard his cheer in baritone voice while cupping his hands over his mouth. Jungkook called his name aloud and placed his hand to his shoulder. The bloke whose name is Taehyung was interrupted to his view of entertainment and prompted him to whirl his head to us.

"Jungkook?"Taehyung asked in surprise and flickered his eyes between us. "What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking that. What are you doing here? I was away for a while and then you're here." He retorted back.

"Come on, I was bored at the office and Mr. Kim is absent anyway so I took the chance." His bluff of excuse and showing a boxy smile to us didn't convince the young detective. Instead, Jungkook grabbed his arm and hastily took him away from the crowd.

"Well we need to go back now, I have a client!" He snarled and proceeded our way out of the smelly and poorly lit underground.

"You mean him?" Taehyung pointed his finger at me while arching his brows.

"My name's Cla—" I abruptly paused myself and quickly thought for another name. "Cleo!" My lips spontaneously twisted into lopsided grin to hide my almost slip of the tongue and then I offered my hand to him.

We have arrived shortly inside their spacious office and Jungkook immediately led us through a corridor. Various medical tools and a person's body covered from head to foot with white linen lay on the long table was my first notice the moment we have entered a room—the morgue. We surrounded the body when Taehyung—the forensic and in charge of autopsy—delicately pulled the white sheet down; showing her once blooming face but now awfully ashen and bare upper chest.

"Who is she to you?" Jungkook started interrogating me.

"She was my best friend." I replied softly. My gaze locked to the sleeping corpse below me and the conspicuous hole on her throat. The cruelty of ruining her body was sickening and immoral; provoking my anger to exceed and curse the one who killed her.

"Do you have the lead to Nocturne Slayer?" My head shot up to him with puzzling look.

"It's what the authorities decided to call him, befitting for someone who hunts his prey on the night." Taehyung clarified metaphorically.

I shrugged my shoulders; unsure and said, "Well I only have my suspicion, I'm not sure if he is the one. His name is Hoseok Jung."

"When was the first time you met him?" Jungkook asked.

"A week ago, he did the post-mortem photography of my dead brother with me and my family."

His brows knitted together as he assimilates the information I gave him. In mere seconds, his eyes widen like a revelation sinking in to him. "So he's a photographer and a reason to own such chemicals. How could I miss that? You see we found something strange to her; there was no sign of struggle. "

"Her muscles are relaxed and..." Taehyung interjected as he slightly twisted her neck and pointed to a very small dot at her nape. "I think now the Nocturne Slayer injected her with some kind of paralytic drug before he kills her. If he has the access to such chemicals then he could make one." His statement caused my suspicion to the photographer strengthened more that behind his pleasing and charming mask actually hides a dangerous and demented persona.

I lifted the linen from her side to take a peek at her resting hand and pointed out, "Her ring finger is gone." My speculation is right; he would leave a reminder by taking a finger like the previous murders.

The detective beside me crossed his shoulders and reckoned, "We believe the killer's pattern is some sort of count down. Did you know all of his nine victims have one missing finger?" He turned his head at me and continued, "And not all of them have the same finger but differently; descending down to the little finger."

"If she lost her ring finger then the next one would be the person's pinkie; the last victim?" I presumed.

"Possibly yes, however, we don't know if the Nocturne Slayer will strike again after that. He could do it again; maybe at the feet next." His horrid hypothesis caused my stomach to churn and feeling uncomfortable by just imagining it.

"Then what he will do with the fingers?" I queried further.

"Psychopaths like him need a trophy after all." He smiled broadly and showed a conceited expression.

"But why need to kill them? He barely knows anyone here aside the children and the late mistress from the orphanage." I raised a contradictory statement to point out the lack of rationale to his scheme.

"What do you mean?" Jungkook narrowed his eyes, beginning to acknowledge my assertion.

"He said he was an orphan and someone took him overseas before." I replied firmly.

"Cleo," He spoke my ad lib male name in low-pitched voice—thankful enough to keep my real name hidden. "I suggest we should visit the seaport."